


Under the Veil a Shattered Soul

by Rhematicicon



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: F/M, it just works, it's really Shalladin, other than that I have no idea what I'm doing, post OB
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-06 23:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhematicicon/pseuds/Rhematicicon
Summary: “Shallan’s at home, going through the ledgers of her husband. The princedom won’t run itself, you know,” replied Veil at last. The matters of the state may have excited many Alethi women, but Veil had no interest in them. It didn’t help that the princedom itself fell to the Voidbringers and all that was left of it in Adolin Kholin’s hands was a couple thousand soldiers here in Urithiru and a war camp at the edge of the Shattered Plains. And with stalemates being reported from all over the country the new Highprince was reduced into a passive role with which he was growing increasingly uncomfortable. “She’s been happy doing that.”“That’s a good lie, Shallan,” muttered Pattern.





	1. Chapter 1

The dark shadows of the tall central of dome of Urithiru were silently looking down upon the bustling crowds beneath them. So tall the dome was that if someone walked onto one of the inside balconies that crowned the wall beneath the ceiling that person simply could not identify anyone moving around down on the ground level. The cavern was truly a wonder of bygone times. And yet Veil felt like something up there has locked its gaze onto her back and was with unwavering precision following her every step as she was making her way to the meeting point. She had a hard time ignoring that feeling but she had a job to do. And Veil usually got the job done. Well, except for this one time of course. Then again it was mostly Shallan’s fault.

“Mmm…” Pattern riding on her new, black coat hummed to himself as he was wont to do. He sounded tired and unfocused as if he didn’t really know what to say. The problem was that this has been happening more often lately. “This lie is becoming more truthful, Shallan,” he finally said.

“That doesn’t make much sense,” replied Veil, scanning the crowd around her before turning confidently into one of the side streets that surrounded the central market. “How can a lie turn truthful?”

With her hand tightly gripping the dagger at her waist she sharply looked back over her shoulder, dark hair whipping around, but the entrance to the side street behind her was empty save for a few drunks snoring beneath the backdoors to various inns. This was perhaps the most unsavoury street in the entire quarter as all the pubs around have somehow been, in what Sebarial called the ingenuity of the free market, built with their backs towards it, meaning that the narrow patch of walk between them was filled with the most unsavoury aspects of Urithiru’s night life. Which of course made it a perfect place for a rendezvous with Mraize and the Ghostbloods.

“If a truth seeps into a lie, then the lie becomes the truth. Like when you add one to two so an even number becomes odd.” That was the longest statement Veil had heard from the spren in weeks.

“Doesn’t it work the other way around too though?” she asked. “Doesn’t the odd number turn into even at the same time? Truth into lie?”

“Mmm… I don’t know, Shallan.” Pattern paused for a moment. “I think I should.”

“Too bad that Shallan isn’t here. She has the mind for this sort of stuff,” replied Veil nonchalantly. She stepped into a shadow casted by one of the buildings and waited there for a few moments but even then, no tail appeared to be following her.

“But Shallan is here,” replied Pattern.

Is she? What was it about Cryptics and lies again?

“Shallan’s at home, going through the ledgers of her husband. The princedom won’t run itself, you know,” replied Veil at last. The matters of the state may have excited many Alethi women, but Veil had no interest in them. It didn’t help that the princedom itself fell to the Voidbringers and all that was left of it in Adolin Kholin’s hands was a couple thousand soldiers here in Urithiru and a war camp at the edge of the Shattered Plains. And with stalemates being reported from all over the country the new Highprince was reduced into a passive role with which he was growing increasingly uncomfortable. “She’s been happy doing that.”

“That’s a good lie, Shallan,” muttered Pattern.

“Why?” Veil didn’t see it any differently from all the others. They tended to blend together like watercolours.

“It’s either true or false depending on what the subject denotes.”

“You are on a roll today, aren’t you?”

“Mmm… You are too good at lying, Shallan. You forget the truths. Push them away and then walk right over them as if they are not even there.”

Veil had heard this song a hundred times before. What was she to do? The truths were as slippery as eels if she were to catch them with her bare hands.

She finally found the place she was looking for. With her only companion other than Pattern being the slight draft that was omnipresent in the vast spaces of Urithiru she knocked on the worn-out, unremarkable door. It opened silently by itself, revealing the small room filled by the sides with junk behind it. The only person present was Mraize who was leaning casually against the wall opposing the entrance. He had his chicken for company again and his light violet eyes were boring down upon her, as if knew exactly when she was going to open that door. Just a barely noticeable trace of anger could be found within them.

“Little knife,” he greeted her, his voice as calm and cool as ever but his scarred face scowling slightly. “I recall sending you a letter via your brother Balat. Wouldn’t it be sad if we had to give him a reminder on how to become a more reliable messenger?”

“Cut it. I got your word.” Veil was brave and bold, not one to back down in front of the challenge. It’s not like there was anywhere to back down in this rusty warehouse that smelled after rotten chull meat anyway. She was surprised that no rotspren were in sight. “I’m working on it.”

“Are you? I’ve heard different things.”

Of course, you did. “Such as?”

“I have heard from cooks and maids here in Urithiru that Shallan Kholin has not been dutiful in the duties ascribed to her by her superiors. I’ve heard from countless others from other places that Sja-anat still serves Odium and her conviction to defect from him may be weakening.” Out of nowhere Mraize produced the blowgun he carried around and started spinning it between his fingers, his gaze never moving away from Veil. The signet ring on his hand glistened even in the dim light of the room.

“Shallan Kholin has much on her hands…,” Veil started but Mraize cut her off.

“Indeed she does. Her powers, her continuing scholarship under the guidance of our wise Queen.” A wide, ugly smile crawled onto his face. “And of course, her dear husband. She certainly has her hands full of him.”

Shallan would have blushed. But Shallan was an innocent soul, a proper Vorin girl eager to please her husband. Veil merely scowled at those words. “That and more. Let’s not forget that you have promised me details. Instead I got nothing.”

“I apologize for my carelessness – I can promise you that you will receive detailed information within a few days. That however does not excuse you from accomplishing nothing at all, Veil.”

“Things will calm down soon and then you will get what you want, Mraize.”

“Will they calm down? I doubt that. All these matters will remain a concern. Some will become even more important and new ones will be ready to step into their shoes should any be resolved for good. Do you know that your husband has been almost begging around for an army to lead a campaign from the Shattered Plains with an intention to retake his lands?

She suspected as much. Adolin had not told her of course. Perhaps he did not want to bother Shallan until he negotiated something concrete. The part of her that was still Shallan tried to say something but she was so far in the back of her mind that Veil could not even hear her. The scowl on her face deepened.

Mraize noticed. “Ah, is there perhaps a trouble brewing among the newlyweds? Something that could be encouraged so her Brightness could be freed to pursue her work?”

Among the newlyweds? No. But there were more than two sailing on this ship. Veil was going make it work though. For Shallan’s sake.

“He’s a good man.” For Veil there was not much else to say. She heard Pattern sigh, but it was barely audible even to her.

Mraize nodded. “That he is – if you look at what is good in a certain way, of course. And good men are generally laughed at when they want to achieve something good. But Bethab has been listening to him and Sebarial too. Bethab naturally wants to protect his lands since they are somehow still holding out for him and Sebarial desires to link up the entire southern Alethkar in a line of resistance and, of course, trade, which would conveniently relieve his own princedom. These three may very well cook up something sooner rather than later.”

“The Queen…”

“The Queen can’t very well melt them all into crem when they disobey her, can she? And they will disobey her because the only language she deals in is reason and the last creature to listen to reason is a man who lost either his family or his home. Or both. And in the end a landless queen is worth about as much as a landless highprince.”

“Dalinar…”

“Has left Alethkar behind. The Blackthorn has entered a bigger game, one that is beyond his comprehension but one that will nevertheless occupy him from now on.”

“A regular army cannot contend with the Fused,” tried Veil.

“It very well can, once it adapts its doctrines to the present circumstances on the field. Your husband is learned enough in the art of war to be able to do just that if the situation demands it of him.” Mraize was right – if there was something Adolin had a head for other than being insufferably nice to everyone around him it was the military. Even she could see certain ways a regular army could compete with the Fused, even if they all required risk and luck in equally large doses.

She sighed. “What do I have to do with that anyway?”

“Everything, of course,” proclaimed Mraize with a smile. “A woman on a campaign has to sacrifice everything for her husband because his righteous cause takes everything he has to give from him. Such woman therefore doesn’t have much time for herself. Such woman lives on foot in the forsaken highlands of the southern Alethkar and not here in Urithiru where the world’s fate is being decided. Such woman cannot do the job that has been assigned to her. Such woman would be Shallan Kholin. I however told you a long time ago that I want the true you to work for me, Veil. The question then is whether such woman allows herself to become a hindrance to the cause that has been laid out in front of her.”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

Mraize spread out his arms in a gesture that shook the chicken on his shoulder into a loud cluck. “Do whatever you see fit. You are clever enough to do just fine by yourself. I am merely informing you about the consequences of your actions. Although you may want to consider preventing your husband from running off like a headless chicken, dragging you behind him to some boring and pointless place.” He stepped closer to her then. “Make no mistake though, little knife. I still consider you an advantageous asset to have access to and therefore I shall be benevolent with you. Show me at least some progress the next time we see each other, and you will get more time without any reprimands being carried out. Now go. Bring us Sja-anat and your debt will once again be lowered, if not erased entirely.”

Mraize watched her wordlessly for a moment and then proceeded to usher her out of the door faster she thought was humanly possible. In no time she was staring back at the shadows dancing under the top of the dome. They were watching her. She was sure of it.

“Are you well, Shallan?” asked Pattern.

“I think we need a drink.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

The inn was a solid establishment – nothing too fancy but also not something where one had to bring their own cups if they didn’t want to taste crem in their drinks. The tables were clean and the personnel nice enough to the regular patrons and newcomers alike. It was as expected full of soldiers and one group of them was of particular interest to Veil. The men of Bridge Four were sitting around a big, round table in the centre of the large hall and seemed to be in a good mood. The drinks were flowing, and gemstones were being exchanged over petty games. That was as good of an opportunity to sit close enough to listen in on their conversation while staring intently into the cup of strong wine in front of her as any other. It was not quite the time for evening drinks yet, but she did not care.

She knew a few of them of course. Teft was there, drinking only water. The big Horneater – Rock – who called her cousin and who seemed like he had lost a great deal of his cheerful attitude at Thaylen City was looking at nothing in particular. Skar and Drehy, whom she came to know quite well during that disastrous venture to Kholinar, were there too. These two somehow got out of that mess with Elhokar’s little son and Shallan’s own retinue in the tow and were now considered heroes among the people of the Kholin princedom, their reputation almost on par with that of their Captain.

The Captain who was of course missing, gone on one those countless errands of his. Now that Veil thought about it she couldn’t remember the last time she saw Kaladin Stormblessed. It seemed as if the man had disappeared from her life after Thaylen. Or, more accurately, after the wedding. What a fool he was. What a fool she was.

“Why?” asked Pattern. He was stretching lazily on the hard, polished wood of the table.

“You can’t just hide away from your problems,” whispered back Veil. Pattern’s only response was a sad sigh. Coincidentally the men of Bridge Four just started talking about the subject of her thoughts.

“So Kal should be coming back with the last batch of refugees from Hearthstone any moment now.” Veil heard Skar say. “I have to say I have never seen him this positively excited. It almost looked alien on that sour mug of his.”

“Can you blame him?” replied one of the men Veil didn’t know. “Who wouldn’t want to reunite with their family? Not all of us are going to have that chance. The Captain’s storming luck ain’t leaving him anytime soon though. Of course, he would be the one to live in such a backwater that the enemy wouldn’t pay any attention to it for months, ha!”

“Luck or not, Kal certainly made sure his folks were going to be taken care of,” continued Skar. “He almost butted heads with Kholin over it. One more week of patrol flights over the Herdazian border and the Bondsmith would find himself without his Windrunners.”

“Don’t exaggerate, Skar,” objected Teft. “Those two have been as thick as thieves lately. Arguments are bound to arise, I’ll give you that. But I’ll eat my coat marinated in crem if those two ever go against one another.”

“Right, right,” started Skar again. “So they weren’t really arguing but Kal was certainly anxious because he wanted to go back home right after the security matters after Thaylen were resolved. But then more things followed, and the time flew forward like a highstorm and he was of course privy to the reports from Alethkar. As you said, Hobber, Kaladin’s family lived in the backwater now known to us as Hearthstone but just because the Voidbringers didn’t pay any attention to it before conquering Kholinar doesn’t mean that such state of matters was going to last.”

“I’ve heard and seen different things,” piped in Drehy. His blonde hairline looked like it had receded even further back after the horrors of Kholinar.

“As such?” asked back Skar, clearly agitated at someone else interrupting him.

“I think there was a woman.” If they could Veil’s ears would have twitched with attentiveness.

“And what would you of all people know about women?” asked Teft.

“A lot actually as I can maintain a professional distance. That allows me to assess a situation involving one or multiple women objectively,” argued Drehy. “I saw her when I went with Kaladin for the first batch of refugees. He was arguing with his father because of course Kaladin’s father wouldn’t leave the town before everyone else did and she came to calm down the situation. She was pretty as far as I could say. Lighteyes too.”

“Well, that takes her out of the conversation, doesn’t it?” laughed another man Veil didn’t recognize.

“And that’s all?” asked Skar incredulously. He sounded appropriately offended by such a tame notion taking over his own narrative.

“Yeah.”

“You know the woman is married to the lord of the town, Drehy?” asked the man called Hobber. “I went there too, if you don’t remember. He’s nasty old piece of work. If I was the Captain I wouldn’t turn my back for a second towards such cremspawn.”

“Is that a problem? That she is married” asked Drehy. The only answer he got were multiple eyerolls.

“This thing seems like a stretch to me, Drehy,” said Teft. “Kal’s had his eyes for another, as far as I know.”

“And who would that be, eh?” asked Skar, eager for more gossip.

It was then that a serving woman stumbled and poured the next round of drinks all over the bridgemen’s table. Veil raised her head away from the cup to observe the situation, but her gaze was met with Rock staring firmly at her, bushy eyebrows raised. The man had an ability to see beyond the obvious. She gave him a barely noticeable shrug of shoulders and stood up to leave, gulping down the rest of her cup in one go. She didn’t want to hear the answer to Skar’s question anyway.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Shallan Davar sat in front of the mirror as her maids were readying water in the bathroom. Her and Adolin’s quarters were a far cray away from those she had been given the first time she had come to Urithiru. The rooms, all five of them and with doors to spare, were fit for a Highprince and his consort. She had all she needed for her duties and scholarship available to her.

So why did she feel as if she should have been elsewhere? The events of the last few weeks blurred together in her mind, some of them hiding behind barely penetrable curtains that felt like a raging stormwall. Part of that was the post-marriage euphoria, part of that boundless confusion. Did Veil take over without her knowing again today? It certainly seemed so.

Shallan sighed, bowing her head and trying to stretch her sore neck. Her own touch felt cold. Had Veil gone drinking? Stormlight could purge the alcohol form the blood but she could still feel the effects of it.

Things certainly didn’t go the way as she had expected them to go not a long time ago. She thought that she had managed to rein Veil in, but this newest illusion only lasted for about a week after the wedding. Then that vicious, feral woman came back with a verve, intent on usurping her own part of Shallan. But that should not be possible, should it? Shallan was Shallan.

“Pattern?”

The question hung in silence.

“Pattern?” she asked again, trying to sound nonplussed.

“Mmm… Shallan?” The spren sounded drowsy as if he had accompanied Veil on the bender. Thinking on that, he likely had.

“What did we do today?”

“You met with the Ghostbloods…with the man with scars on his face.”

Oh. Mraize. “He wasn’t happy.” The details were now emerging from the depth of her mind. Her work on Sja-anat had gone nowhere, or more precisely had not even gotten off the starting point – Shallan did not have enough time for it and Veil could not care less about the Unmade.

“No, he was not.”

“I should tell Adolin about the Ghostbloods. Perhaps than I could find more time for my work for them,” mused Shallan.

“The truth, Shallan?” asked Pattern.

“What else?”

“Maybe a lie?” The spren offered. “You are good at lies, Shallan. Too good. It is to be expected.”

“I will tell him.” Shallan tried to say it firmly but she knew in an instant that was merely putting up more lies. She had already promised to herself that she would tell Adolin about the Ghostbloods before the wedding but now an entire month had gone by and she was still holding this secret close to her chest. And all the others too. But if she gave her husband this one then the others would surely follow, and he would recognize her for the storming fraud she was, would he not? Would it not be better if she could look him straight in the eye for once though? There was nothing she wished for more.

Radiant could withstand the pressure but she was not one for lies and deception. Her way of talking was as straight as Dalinar Kholin’s back. And she had not been around much lately anyway – the open time slots for practicing with Shardblade were now few and far between and not many other opportunities presented themselves for her to take advantage of. It even seemed to Shallan that Radiant had lost some of her… radiance – when she became her she did not feel as full of confidence as before, as if something was trying to drain it all away.

Veil could tell Adolin. But Veil was being rebellious and made for quick exits in the events of Adolin’s entrances. Their early bonding over shared drinks had lasted about as long as stormlight in a poorly cut sphere.

“Why is my memory so hazy?” asked Shallan Pattern.

“To liars truths remain hidden.” She saw Pattern standing in the mirror, rippling on the glass surface but she could not quite wholly focus on his form, as if he was not entirely present. “Then they lose themselves as well.”

Those words frightened her. “I-I…”

Shallan was interrupted from her aimless thoughts by a knock on the door followed by an unceremonial entrance as her brother Jushu barged into her rooms as if he was back to being a boy.

“Jushu! What if I wasn’t decent?” asked Shallan with a fake indignation evident in her voice. She was more than glad to see someone who could take her worries away. At least for a moment.

“At this hour? I know you too well, sister. You wouldn’t enter your bath just yet.” Jushu looked better than he did when she saw him for the first time in a year just before her wedding. He was leaner than she could remember him ever being and the circles under his eyes were not as prominent as they used to be. For whatever reason Urithiru was treating him well.

“And what is it that made you jump in here like a madman?”

“I bring a message from Queen Jasnah. You are summoned at once,” announced her brother.

“Now? But I have seen her just this morning.” Luckily even Jasnah had by now realized that assigning Shallan to note-taking was far beneath her station but that did not mean that all the unpleasantries of her wardship went away.

“Emergency meeting. That’s what she said, anyway.” Jushu shrugged his shoulders. “She told me to bring you to her at once.”

“She could’ve used a spanreed if she demanded my immediate presence. We have one linked up now,” replied Shallan as she stood up to gather her things. Pattern moved onto the skirt of her dress but Shallan could have sworn that she heard him snore. She quickly told her maids where she was going - the bath would have to wait. Hopefully Adolin would be back by the time she returned so he could take her tired mind elsewhere, to some pretty place.

“Stormlight rations. You remember that she issued them, right?” asked Jushu. “Everything that can be done effectively without using Stormlight shall be done without Stormlight. The Queen wants the storages at full readiness as soon as possible. And she didn’t really demand. It was more of a plea.”

“Plea?” That sounded interesting. “Do you have any idea of what this is about?” Shallan joined Jushu as they walked out of their quarters, a pair of Kholin guards falling in step behind them.

“Eh, she doesn’t exactly treat me like a kinsman, sister,” replied Jushu with a smile. “Maybe she just forgets about that small and unimportant fact.”

“She doesn’t. It’s more likely that she realizes that you require a firm hand, dear brother.”

A slight frown appeared on Jushu’s face but it was gone just as quickly as it came. “I’ve been doing well, if that’s what you are concerned about. The famous Kholin morale doesn’t offer many opportunities for me to slide back into my habit anyway.”

They walked briskly as it was a long way from the section of Urithiru Kholins have claimed for themselves to the ancient library in the depths of the tower. The one with drawers in walls and the strange pillar-fabrial in the middle of the room. The one where the encounter with Re-Shepir happened.

Jasnah continued to spend much of her time there, contrary to the wishes of her many subjects who wished for her to occupy a more accessible and representative place. Yet the scholar Queen rebuffed all the complaints with the fierceness characteristic of her family and continued to study the large fabrial and other wonder of Urithiru with the usual determination.

In the end it took them almost an hour to reach the library. Jushu then excused himself as he went to find her other brothers for a dinner which left Shallan alone in facing the Queen.

“What do you think she wants, Pattern?”

“Mmm… the truth?” Not very helpful.

“Of what?” asked Shallan but the only response was Pattern’s humming. Should she be worried about the spren? She could not tell what could possibly be wrong with him though.

Stuffing the worries into the back of her mind for the time being she walked into the library. Jasnah stood by a nearby table, looking as polished and regal as ever. She did not need the crown to project the aura of control and majesty, but she wore it anyway and she wore it well, just like everything else. She noticed Shallan as soon as she stepped through the door.

“Ah, Shallan. Excuse me for calling for you at this hour but I think this is going to interest you.” Jasnah stretched her arm and pointed at the figure of Renarin Kholin who was sitting still at the end of the table, wearing a slightly expression on his face. “I think it’s long past time we took an in-depth look into the matter of your good-brother and his strange spren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So a few warnings:
> 
> 1) I haven't written anything in years  
> 2) My English remains far from perfect  
> 3) The likelihood of me flaming out is moderate to high
> 
> Also shoutout to the folks over at 17th Shard in that one thread


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize to all the medical professionals

Kaladin walked into Hearthstone’s square, watching the last of the remaining inhabitants of the town as they were gathering up for a transport to Urithiru. He had just made sure that the rest of the town was indeed empty and nobody was being left behind. Everyone was bundled up in three layers of their best clothing and the most vulnerable ones were putting on glass naval masks which were, as Kaladin noted a dozen times before today, in a state of constant shortage. To say that he was anxious would be an understatement – this entire process was taking far too long for his liking and with each passing day the likelihood of the armies of Odium finally descending upon the town was increasing.

Voidbringers… could he even call the Parshendi that now that he knew the truth? Did the truth even matter? Or were his own truths more important? The Words. Could he ever bring himself to saying them? Deep down he thought that he knew them, knew that he should say them in this instant. And yet…

“You will do what is right. That is what matters,” said Syl as she zipped down to him and landed on his shoulder. She wore the havah she had been wearing the first time they returned to Hearthstone, combined with an impression of that ridiculous hat she had put on when they went to Celebrant in Shadesmar. In short she looked appropriately ridiculous for the situation.

Kaladin could only nod wordlessly to her words. Syl was constantly trying to get him cheer up a bit but these last few weeks had been hard, filled with constant thoughts of war, misery and, weirdly, loneliness. The latter one was certainly a feeling he grew unused to after he let Tarah go all those countless months ago. His only hope was that things would get a little bit better now that his parents and little brother were finally coming to Urithiru.

Not that he would be able to give them the time and attention they deserved – Dalinar would likely expect him to get right back to work once he returned to the tower. Their respective positions in the grand order of things may had changed but Kaladin still saw himself as the man’s subordinate, even if they essentially talked as equals more often than not. While the war had slowed down after the battle at Thaylen the situation was never calm enough for the Windrunners to not be useful for some pressing task. Thinking on that Kaladin would probably soon return to this part of Alethkar as the skirmishes along the Herdazian border to the northeast did not look like they were going to lose on intensity anytime soon.

Casting his gloomy thoughts aside he decided to focus on the matter at hand. They were going to fly to Urithiru above the highstorm for whose arrival Kaladin was immensely thankful as he strongly doubted he would’ve been able to haggle even more Stormlight out of the Queen had the highstorm not been forecast. The woman really needed a lesson in empathy but try to find someone willing to debate her over that.

Kaladin and his men were now so well practiced with this manner of transportation that it could be considered fully safe even if they were bringing injured or children with them on the ride. Luckily on this last trip they did not have to waste time by convincing residents of Hearthstone that flying above the storm is not an absolute insanity conceived by a bunch of madmen with delusions of grandeur.

What was the problem was the fact that the highstorm was now only minutes away and Kaladin’s father had still not come out of Roshone’s manor, likely dallying with one of the patients – Lirin never stopped thinking that he could give more of himself to his charges. There were not many things Kaladin admired more about his father. However, in that very moment he wished for Lirin to take a more practical approach for once.

Wasting no time Kaladin got his legs moving and walked quickly back into the manor, letting Sigzil and Lyn to arrange the people into the formation in which they were going to fly.

“He is still watching you with daggers in his eyes, you know,” commented Syl as they walked past Roshone. The citylord naturally wanted to leave with the first batch of refugees fourteen days ago but Laral wanted to hear none of that and to Kaladin’s utter amazement Roshone obeyed her in that regard. The pair was now listening to Sigzil as he was explaining something to them but Roshone’s gaze indeed moved onto Kaladin as he walked by. “You just essentially took the entire town from under him. Up until now he was at least able to pretend that he has retained his authority.”

“He can’t do anything to us.”

“No. But what about the others?” asked Syl. She sounded concerned.

“He wouldn’t dare. Laral wouldn’t let him. He’ll let it boil inside him.” Kaladin ignored the city lord and walked into the manor. He found his father and the rest of his family where he expected to find them – in the parlour. His mother noticed him first.

“Is it time?” Hesina asked. She had Oroden bundled up in a sack against her chest and had a bag slung over her shoulder.

“We have to go. The highstorm will hit the town soon,” replied Kaladin, moving besides his father. Lirin was checking on an unconscious older woman who was lying on one of the makeshift cots. Her breath was rapid but otherwise she was unmoving. Kaladin could see an uncharacteristic franticness in his father’s movements.

“What is wrong, father? We need to get moving or the storm will hit us before we take off.”

“Malda has collapsed,” responded Lirin simply but with concern obvious in his voice. He did not look up. Kaladin now remembered the woman. She had been a widow as far back as he could remember and always lived alone. She treated them well when they were kids.

“She’s the one who has had trouble with heart?”

“She had a heart attack two years ago. Not too bad but she is old and it seems that the stress of the last few weeks has finally taken its toll.

“Treatment?” asked Kaladin.

“Resuscitation of the heart and the usual medication. I think the blood is flowing for now but I think that this time a surgery will be required. It seems much worse than the one before.”

“We don’t have time for that.”

“A bypass. We’ve done it once together. Before. Do you remember? It was a foolish thing to attempt in with just two surgeons but somehow it worked. We are three now.”

“Mara has gone to Urithiru with the last batch, father,” replied Kaladin. His father’s young assistant had gone ahead to help setting up new healing ward that was to be run by Lirin.

“Aye, she did, didn’t she,” said Lirin as he ran his hands through his thinning hair in dejection as he finally allowed reality to set in. He looked helpless. “I once told you that callouses will shield you from moments like this. And yet it feels worse every time. Life before death. You said that to me.”

“Will she die?” asked Syl as she flew down above Malda. Judging from his father’s reaction Lirin could hear and see her too. That was the first time show showed herself to either of his parents. Lirin looked at her in wonder but did not say anything.

Kaladin grounded his teeth. “No.”

He knelt beside his father and made to pick the woman up. “We can take her with us. There are people at Urithiru who may be able to help her.”

Lirin caught him by the arm. “She won’t survive this, Kaladin. It’s too much stress and if we are attacked… Maybe, maybe I can stay. Try the surgery on my own. Give her at least a chance.”

Kaladin shook his head resolutely. He was the leader now. That included leading his own father if it came to that and not it did. “It wouldn’t work, father. And even if did it you would both die to the Voidbringers. We are going, now.” He stood up holding Malda. It felt like she weighted nothing in his arms even though he was not channelling any Stormlight. He could now hear the rumble of the Highstorm outside.

“Sir!” Sigzil’s voice reached the room just before the man himself stepped in in a hurry.

“We are coming, Sig. Is everyone ready?” Kaladin moved, his father and mother following him.

“Yes, Sir. But there is something else. Lyn thinks that there are Fused flying with the storm.” That was unusual. Something they came to know about the Fused was that their own powers were sourced by the Everstorm as it was of Odium. The highstorms were driven by the Stomfather and even though a force of nature he was very much an ally of the Knights Radiant as they currently stood.

“We can outfly them. C’mon, we have to get up.” They walked briskly out of the building only to see the grey mass of stormwall speed towards them. Wasting no time Kaladin began lashing everyone up, beginning with Malda whose limbs he had to lash to one another, so she would stay stabilized once they got going as a friction of the air could still affect the lashed people or objects.. One of the previous rescue groups suffered a nasty accident with an old, blind man who got out of control in a bout of panic and as sad as it was the only thing Kaladin and others could do about it was to learn from the experience. His soldiers followed the lead and soon everyone was flying up. In the end they barely edged the stormwall as it angrily rushed in under them. Forward lashings followed and soon the group was on its way to Urithiru.

“They are here,” said Syl as she flew by him, streaking like a ribbon of brilliant light. “But they are not attacking.”

Kaladin turned so he fell with his back forward. Syl was right – a squad of Fused were trailing them, barely within the field of his visibility. They seemed content to sit back and Kaladin had no idea why. Alone Kaladin and his squires would have easily been able to outfly them. But with five refugees for every soldier of Bridge Four Kaladin brought with him on this mission, the Fused would have likely been able to inflict casualties upon the group even though the Windrunners’ superior surgebinding abilities would likely prevail in a fight to death. But the Fused did not need to fear death, did they?

Kaladin turned around again, tucked his elbows in and manoeuvred himself over to Lyn, putting her to a rear duty. She was a professional scout after all and among them had the best pair of eyes on her head.

With nothing else to do for the time being Kaladin flew over to the other side of the group to check on his family. His father paid him no mind as his attention was locked onto Malda and another patient of his who were lashed in the centre of the formation. His mother on the other hand waved at him with a broad smile plastered on her face.

He moved closer. In general you could not hear anything other than the wind itself when being lashed at this speed but two weeks back Kaladin finally figured how to create at least small pockets of calmness consistently. It threw another wrench into Sigzil’s calculations but Kaladin was simply glad that it worked as it greatly improved his communication capabilities while airborne.

“What is there to smile about, mother?” he asked once the pocket was created.

“It’s beautiful up here,” Hesina replied as she looked around. She was right. No matter how many times Kaladin got up here the dance of light and colors against the contrast of the storm below and the clear sky above would never cease to amaze him.  
“That it is. How is Oroden?”

“Oh, I think he is rather enjoying it.” Kaladin ducked his head only to spot a bright smile and wide eyes of his little brother. “It seems that fondness for flying runs in the family.”

“I wonder whether Tien would’ve enjoyed it,” mused Kaladin before he caught himself. His eyes closed in an almost painful crmap as it all came crashing down upon him again. He did not think that would ever be able to truly let go. He still had not even talked with his parents about anything that happened and now…

He felt a hand touch his arm. His mother was looking at him with concern.

“Kaladin. It wasn’t your fault.” Such simple words. So simple for him to deny them even if he did not want to.

“It doesn’t matter whether it was or wasn’t. If I couldn’t protect him, how can I protect Oroden?” How could he? Tien was not the only one he failed after all. His men in Amaram’s army, the countless dead of Bridge Four… Elhokar.

“You have grown, son,” answered Hesina. Her expression turned into that of motherly resolve. “You are stronger, in mind and in body. Do not dwell on the past and on the dead. Remember how Tien lived and how much he enjoyed the life around him.”

“He liked stones,” gulped Kaladin. “Always carried them around and showed them to me and anyone else who would listen. Even when we got into the army.”

“Yes,” his mother smiled in reminiscence. “He was grabbing after them before he was able to walk. He would show them to me even when he wasn’t able to tell me about them. But in the end he would always drop them and find something else to do or wonder about. Because rocks and stones are dead.”

“Not all of them,” muttered Kaladin, remembering the giant thunderclasts tearing down walls and houses effortlessly.

Hesina paused for a moment. “I know you have seen many things during those last few years, Kal. Seen and suffered through them. We still haven’t talked about…” she hesitated as she glanced over his forehead which continued to bear the glyphs of slavery. “My point is that you cannot live through the dead. All things may have spren but for us that’s not the same thing as living. Life before death. That’s how the Immortal Words begin and a wise beginning it indeed is.”

“Father said the same thing to me,” replied Kaladin. “Just minutes ago, before we left.”

“Your father is a learned man, Kal. You should consider listening to him. And to me. Living though doesn’t mean that you have to let go, if that is what worries you.”

He sighed, wondering whether it was not letting go that was the right course of action.

“Your mother is right, Kaladin,” said Syl as she came to seemingly hover in front of them even as they were falling forward at a blistering speed.

“Your spren, Kal?” his mother asked. Syl was apparently in a mood for showing off.

He shook his head, his mind still wandering through places he did not want to go to. “Mother, that is Sylphrena. Syl, you know my mother.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “I remember her… from before.”

“From before?” asked his mother curiously.

“I… I have been with Kaladin for a long time. Sometimes it’s hard to remember whats and whens…” Syl trailed off but then smiled. “Now things are good. Almost as good as they can be. Considring that the world is ending.”

His mother eyed her curiously before replying. “That’s good to hear. I have to thank you for keeping my son alive, Sylphrena.”

“Oh, he does a good job of that himself. I merely help from time to time,” beamed the honorspren.

“You sell yourself short, Syl. Without you I would’ve ended up on the bottom of a chasm long time ago,” objected Kaladin, remembering the deep darkness as he stood above it on that fateful night, ready to give himself to it.

Syl frowned in return. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a fool, Kaladin Stormblessed?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “There have been some people, here and there.”

“Well, one is right here and she will give you a lesson to remember: Everything you do ultimately comes out of you. If that wasn’t true, I wouldn’t be here. Comprende?”

“Where did you even learn that word?” asked Kaladin amusedly.

Syl twirled around. “Too much time spent around Lopen if I were to guess. The Herdazian vernacular is positively addictive, gancho.”

“Syl! One Lopen is enough. Especially considering that they tend to come with a hundred cousins in the package.”

His mother snickered. “You two bicker like a married couple,” she said at last. Oroden whooped in an agreement as if he had any idea of what they were talking about before the merciless pounding of the storm below them recaptured his wide-eyed attention.

“We don’t actually argue that much,” protested Kaladin.

“That’s because most of the time you know when to listen to me, silly,” said Syl as she flew closer to pat him on the head. “We merely need to work out on those few chinks in the armour.”

“So. Kaladin Stormblessed?” asked his mother, changing the topic.

“It’s a long story. They first called me that in Amaram’s army after… after Tien died. My squad hardly ever lost any men so others thought me lucky. It came back later, after Sadeas had me hanged out for the highstorm to serve as the judge.”

“For what?”

“For trying to get my men to live through another day.” Only to die at a later time.

“Oh, Kal.”

“It’s alright mother. I understand what you are trying to tell me. It’s just hard to accept that truth. About him. About them. About myself.”

“You can always come to us if you need to, Kal,” said his mother tenderly. “We are together again.”

Not for long. He did not say it aloud though. Instead he just nodded, content in living that lie at least for a few more moments. It felt good.

“I shall have you interact with your son more often, madam,” said Syl to Hesina. “It’s clear that this man needs a woman in his life.”

“Not like that, Syl!” cried out Kaladin. Did Syl really decide to go back to being his matchmaker?

“Oh, right.” Syl considered her options for a moment. “Nevertheless, I would be pleased if you were to serve as my accomplice in this task.”

Now Hesina laughed out loud. “Surely my son needs no help in this area. He is his father’s son after all.” A surprised expression crawled onto Kaladin’s face. “What? Your father was the suavest man in all of Alethkar.”

“I don’t think I take after him in that then. Other than Tarah… and that was so long ago too. But I have Syl and my men. And now you and father, and Oroden.” He tried to smile but it did not quite come out right. One other face illuminated by brilliant red flashed in front of him before it disappeared into the bright sky. Syl seemed to note what he was thinking about but kept silent, frown just barely apparent on her forehead under that ridiculous hat. His mother was eyeing him curiously.

“We will talk later,” said Kaladin at last. “I have to check on others.”

Hesina nodded. “Say bye to your brother, Oroden,” she spurred. The baby let out a whoop identical to the previous one which made Kaladin laugh at last and then he was falling back towards Lyn.

_I did not expect yourself to ally with my mother in this little quest of yours,_ he said to Syl as she zipped after him.

_Get used to it then, hon. We women tend to go hard after what we want._

\--------------------------------------------------------------

In the end the rest of their rapid flight to Urithiru remained uneventful. The Fused for whatever reason ceased their pursuit somewhere above Jah Keved and Kaladin’s had no intention to waste time trying to guess the motive for their strange behaviour. A report to brains more suited for such task would do.

Even in the spreading darkness of the evening the gargantuan tower looked as imposing as ever as it came into the sight, its sprawling plateaus lying just above the top of the passing stormwall. In that Urithiru was truly a place standing apart from all others. When one looked at the Radiant-made wonder from one of the peaks surrounding the mountain plane it almost felt like there was no other world beyond it.

_When you went to those peaks, there was another reason for you to feel that way, wasn’t there?_ He stuffed those thoughts away as he was wont to do lately even if it was not very helpful. He signalled to his men to stop their forward Lashing and subsequently began lashing their proteges downward onto one of the inactive Oathgate plateaus.

Teft and Lopen were waiting for them there with gemstone lanterns and a contingent of servants ready to take care of the newly arrived if there was any need for it. It seemed to Kaladin that about half of them were Lopen’s cousins of some variety but at this point he would not be surprised if he found out that a half of the entire Herdaz moved to Urithiru.

By the time Kaladin touched the ground as the last person in the group his father was already squating beside Malda. It was obvious from his concerned expression that they had no time to waste.

“Teft! Where is Renarin?” The younger Kholin’s power of healing were really Malda’s only chance now. While Renarin was still a nominally member of Bridge Four, since Thaylen he had been kind of floating in-between ranks and structures. That was not surprising as most of Alethi organizational and political structures remained in upheaval, to the chagrin of the Queen and Highprinces.

“Storm me if I know,” replied Teft. “I haven’t even seen the kid today. Why?”

Kaladin nodded back towards the bundle of people who were now surrounding the unconscious woman. “We’ve got a woman who will die without his help.”

“Think the Queen stole him for some experiments, gancho. You know, with that spren of his,” said Lopen nonchalantly. “Know where to find her?”

“Yeah. You sure about that?”

“As sure as I am of my left arm.”

“Great. I need to get going then. Teft, can you take care of the arrangements for the rest of the group?”

“We’ve commissioned nice chambers for you family. Some lighteyes will grumble but nobody will say a word against you and it’s not like we are lacking space thus far.” Urgency entered the darkeyed soldier’s voice after that. “I’ll need to talk to you about something after that though.”

Kaladin nodded and turned to walk back.

“Lopen’s spren is so rude,” said Syl indignantly. “Disrespectful, little… bastard!”

“No surprise there. Do you know him?”

“He’s a cousin of some sort. I think. Sometimes it is hard to tell.”

Kaladin pushed through the group that surrounded his father.

“We shouldn’t have done this,” said Lirin, his voice resigned. “I think she is going through another one. We are losing her, son.”

“No, we are not.” He hoisted the old woman’s body on one shoulder, grabbed his father the free hand and before anyone could speak another word he lashed them towards Urithiru.

Flying through the countless cramped areas of Urithiru with two people hanging on his body probably was not the safest option as Kaladin was not very practiced in manoeuvring in enclosed spaces at such speed, but all the caution was lost in the winds. They rumbled through the market, scaring the storms out of traders and sentries alike, and with curses following them they entered the eastern tunnels, the multi-coloured strata on the walls flashing by in a manner similar to that of a highstorm. Kaladin barely managed to redirect the lashings as they flew into the room with the big black hole in the ground. Down the tube they fell and then horizontally again, through the hall with the murals of Heralds richly painted on the walls.

The guards yelped in surprise as Kaladin barely slowed down to land in front of them and then watched him wordlessly as he ran by them.

Considering the time of the day it was not very surprising that the chamber was practically empty and in a different situation the sight of the sitting figure of Renarin surrounded by a pair of stalking axehounds in the form of Shallan and Jasnah Kholin would be amusing. The man’s sweaty forehead indicated that the women were really drilling into him.

Kaladin though did not pay those two much mind as he barrelled into the ancient chamber with his father in tow.

“Renarin!”

To his credit, the man jumped out of the chair as soon as he noticed the unconscious woman in Kaladin’s arms. “I’ll need Stormlight,” he announced. Kaladin laid Malda gently on one of the tables and started fishing out his few leftover spheres.

The Queen however did not seem very happy with his incursion. “Can’t this wait?” she asked coldly as she moved towards them. The woman could certainly project an air of majesty even when she looked ready to Soulcast something out of existence. “We are in the middle of an important inquest, Captain.”

“Does it look like it can?” replied Kaladin, looking at her sharply. The Queen did not flinch but to his surprise did say no more.

Shallan came to them with searching through her pouch for more spheres for Renarin who was already in the process of applying the healing power of the surge of Progression onto the ailing woman. Her hair was as lustrous as ever even if she looked a bit tired to Kaladin. Far too much time had gone by since he had seen her last.

“Who is the woman?” she asked with a concern as she spotted Lirin. Her eyed widened. How she guessed that he was Kaladin’s father he had no idea. “Is it…”

“No.”

A short pause. “That’s good, isn’t?”

As hard as it was to admit she was right. He did not know what he would do if that was his mother on that table. He nodded faintly. “It doesn’t make it any better though.”

It took a few moments before Renarin stopped glowing and moved away from the table.

“I’ve done what I can,” he said dejectedly as he wiped the sweat off his forehead. “But there is something wrong, with the brain I think. I can’t reach it. It’s hard to describe the process.”

“Damnation!” cursed Kaladin. All for nothing.

“Lack of oxygen likely caused some brain damage. She is comatose now. I don’t know what you tried to do there, Brightlord, but that would be tall order for Heralds themselves,” commented Lirin. He was looking at Kaladin. There was no accusation in his gaze and yet… “I should have stayed. We all could have stayed. Perform the surgery and wait for another storm.”

“No, father. That would have been a suicide.”

“And yet it was a better chance for her than this.”

“But not for us,” argued Kaladin. Everyone was now staring at them.

“We don’t matter, son. We serve those who need our help.” Now Kaladin could see tears forming in the eyes of his father.

“And sometimes we need to help ourselves!” He had never shouted at his father once in his life. Until now. He did not intend to do it but the frustration simply came out. The tension released from his body as he stared into the bare soul of the man he loved.

Lirin’s shoulders slumped, his gaze turning away at last. “I think I should go back now. Check on Hesina and Oroden. And Mara too. To see how she has been doing.”

“Father…,” tried Kaladin.

“No, son. I see your point. Would you help me with Malda? Maybe in time she can still be brought back. With care and patience.”

“Maybe I could help,” piped in Renarin as he gave Kaladin a helpful glance. “I think we are done here for tonight anyway.”

Jasnah only nodded and Renarin went on to gently scoop up Madla. The time with Bridge Four has turned his body into that of a man but still approached all things with utmost care.

Kaladin turned back to Lirin. “I’ll come on the morn.” He breathed in. “It was the right thing to do.”

His only nodded in response. Bowing shortly to the Queen he turned to follow Renarin who was already through the doorway. Shallan went after them, sparing Kaladin a sympathetic smile.

“Interesting,” commented Jasnah with a hint of amusement in her voice as Kaladin replied with a small smile of his own. It probably came out as an awful scowl for all he knew.

“What?”

“You’ve made a selfish choice. That means that you might not be wholly lost just yet.”

As he stared after Shallan Kaladin could only wonder whether that was going to become a habit of his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this kinda ended up in the same spot as the first chapter so things haven't moved much. Hopefully that won't be the case for further chapters but I feel like these two get a pass as an intro. I'm not really sure how I feel about it though as I still feel kinda rusty.
> 
> Anyway I shall give myself a full month deadline for another chapter as I have a stuff to do for Uni and I am a notorious proscratinator. I also feel like I should really create at least a basic outline for this fic if I am to be serious with it. I'm even open to suggestions if you have any as almost nothing other the general direction towards Shalladin is set in stone.


End file.
